Midnight
by Massacre13
Summary: Midnight has lived in an orphanage since she was 5, when he father was brutally murdered. Her mother, Nemesis, Greek Goddess of Revenge, is never far away in spirit. As Midnight discovers she is due at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he mother's talents and determination to find and end her father's killer, are being put to the test. *Disclaimer: I do not own HP or PJ*
1. Meeting Midnight

My name is Midnight. I don't really have last name. If anyone asks, I say it's 'Smith', but I don't think it really has a ring to it, 'Midnight Smith'. Doesn't really work does it? Not that I care.

I don't really know who my father is, or was; I don't even know his name. My mother doesn't have a last name either. My earliest memory is of my father's murder, and although I didn't know him that well, after all I was only 5 when he died, I will find his killer. And I will hurt them. I think that's only fair, not to mention it's in my nature. My mother is Nemesis, Greek goddess of revenge, and I have inherited some of her skills, her characteristics. Very useful for payback, not so much for making friends.

I've lived in an orphanage since I was five. I'm eleven now, going on twelve. I don't blame my mother for not keeping me around, after all, she's busy, she's done nothing wrong in leaving me behind. And I know she thinks of me. She sends me a birthday card every year with a little bad fortune tip for those around me. I've always known I was her daughter, but I didn't know I was a witch, not until a few days ago when a letter was delivered by 'owl post' to my bedroom window. The owl was a barn own, with black speckles across its chest. There were two letters in its claws. I opened the one with familiar handwriting first as the owl sat on the bed frame, ruffling and preening its wings.

"Dear Midnight. This is your mother. If you have not opened the other letter, do so now." I had put down the letter and picked up the other one, wondering why she would bother to send me two. When I opened it, it was my acceptance letter at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. To say I was shocked was the understatement of the century. I picked up my mother's letter and carried on reading,

"I assume you did as you were told and read the other letter. Congratulations! I'll have all of your supplies sent over to you, save for your wand which you will have to get personally. I'll send a friend to help you out with that too. The owl who delivered these letters is called Βοήθεια" (pronounced Voí̱theia, meaning Help) "and is my gift to you as an early birthday present. Owls are very useful and this one will keep you close in dire times. Take her with you to the school and treat her well. I can tell there will be multiple opportunities at Hogwarts for you, until we meet again, Nemesis."

Today is the day I go to get my wand. My supplies arrived yesterday, and are already packed inside my suitcase. Βοήθεια is sat on my shoulder, her favourite perch. She doesn't like her cage, and I see no reason why I should put her in it, other than she makes a small amount of mess I have to clear up afterwards. Not pretty.

I changed my hair colour to a deep red, but didn't alter my eyes. I like my eye colour, a dark hazel. It's a skill I've inherited - metamorphic abilities. I guess I kind of owe her a lot for my skills. I can detect a person's weakness (their greatest fear) just by observing their body movements and speech patterns, I was born a Metamorphmagus, though not on the same scale as my mother who can change her entire appearance to any mortal who looks at her, and I can charmspeak people unto committing revenge. I'm the first child of Nemesis to be born in nearly a hundred years, as not many men are attracted to the vengeance goddess, but nevertheless, I exist. Apparently the last child of Nemesis was much more powerful than I am, with way more talents, but I'm happy with the ones I have. They help me engage in various opportunities, the most frequent one being talking people into taking revenge, my favorite hobby.

There was a knock on my bedroom door, making me look up. It opened slowly, and a member of the orphanage staff, Holly (age 28, two sisters, worst fear – spiders), stood outside.

"The escort is outside for you." She said sharply. Ever since I talked another orphan (Billy-ray, age 6 at the time, only child, worst fear – the dark) into putting a tarantula into her coat pocket, she hasn't liked me much.

I nodded and picked up my suitcase and bags, Βοήθεια already sat on my shoulder silently. She picked up my suitcase from me and took it downstairs. I think she underestimated how heavy it is.

At the bottom of the stairs, the front door to the orphanage was open, and a large bulky man was stood, blocking out the light from the doorframe.

"Here she is." Holly said, glaring at me. I smiled politely back at her, and I could almost hear her cursing in her mind.

"Right o'." The man grinned. He had a big bushy beard, and must have been at least 10 ft tall. I'll need to hear him talk more before working out his fear. Wait, are they seriously letting me walk out with this guy? He could be anybody?!

"The paperwork checks out right?" I asked quietly. Holly gave a brief nod and put my suitcase down on the ground. The man leant forwards and picked it up as if it were weightless.

"C'mon 'en. Le's go." I raised an eyebrow, but followed regardless. As soon as I was out I heard the door slam behind me, startling Βοήθεια, who let out a squeak of surprise. I think they're glad to be rid of me, at least for now. The man walked over to a young boy, who looked around my age, that was stood on the kerb.

"Right 'en. 'Arry this is Midnight Smiff. Midnight, this is 'Arry Potter."

"Hi." Harry said to me.

"Hello."

"Oh, and I'm Hagrid, groundskeeper at 'Ogwarts. Blimey, look at the time, we'd best be goin'" He said it all very fast before beginning to stride off. Harry and I nearly had to run to catch up with him. His stride is a little lopsided, and his accent is definitely the stereotypical country bumpkin... I'd guess death or the death of others is his greatest fear. From the looks of his oversized scarred hands, I'd say it was of animals. The death of animals and those he cares about. I'm never going to be able to guess how old he is, there's too much height and bushy beard to see his face properly.

"Mr Hagrid, how old are you?" I asked politely.

"Right now? I'm..." He thought for a few minutes "63." He pronounced the 'three' as 'free'.

"Do you have a first name?" I asked.

"Nosy one ain't ya? Rubeus, Rubeus Hagrid." New profile: Rubeus Hagrid, age 63, worst fear – the death of those he cares about. Nice fear. Tricky to work with though.

"Why do you have an owl on your shoulder?" Harry asked, pointing at Βοήθεια.

"That's Βοήθεια. She likes it there."

"Where did you pull that name from?" Harry asked, frowning. I shrugged.

"Family heirloom." I smiled. I'm not bad at Greek, but I can't speak it fluently, just a few words here and there. "Have you got a pet?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "Did you know about, you know, magic and stuff, before your letter came?"

"Not really." I lied.

"Me either." Harry sighed, relaxing "I'm glad I'm not the only one who doesn't know about it. I'd be way behind."

Yup, me too." I said quietly. Βοήθεια nipped my ear affectionately, and I stroked her chest. That's when we reached the motorbike.

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, 'op in, we'll be up in the air in no time." Hagrid said, putting my suitcase in.

"Um, I'm not so fond of flying." I said, looking nervously at the motorbike carriage. I'm not sure if Zeus would blast me out of the sky or not, or whether he even has any authority over here in England, but I hope not.

"Don't worry about it, it's perfectly safe." Hagrid smiled. I did a silent prayer '_Please Zeus don't kill me_' and got in. Βοήθεια spread her wings and took flight into the air, soaring above us. Harry got in beside me.

"Don't worry" Harry smiled at me "it's really fun." I stayed quiet, still praying, I closed my eyes and squeezed them shut. Harry yelped in surprise and I opened my eyes a fraction to see what he had yelped at. He was staring at me.

"What?" I asked. He pointed at my head. I patted my head – nothing strange seemed to be happening. I looked at a curl of my hair and realised it had turned a mixture of deep purple and streaked black.

"Hang on!" Hagrid yelled, then he started the engine, a loud '_bang_' startling it into life. It accelerated across the car park before the wheels left the ground and it soared into the air. The g-force against my face made me want to throw up until the bike steadied and reduced its speed, almost like we were cruising rather than speeding. Harry and I sat up and I focused for a moment, my hair changing back to the deep red I liked.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked in astonishment. I shrugged.

"Pure brilliance?" I suggested. Harry sat back, smiling slightly but not much. Hmm, I'd say his worst fear would be either putting his friends in danger, or just fear itself.

"So Harry, a little about yourself?"

"Why?"

"Why not?" I raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

"Well, my parents were both killed when I was very young, and ever since then I've lived with my cousins, the Dursley's. They don't like me, at all. I slept in a cupboard under the stairs, made them breakfast every morning and my cousin Dudley-"

"Dudley Dursley?" I sniggered.

"Yeah" Harry laughed slightly "he decided I would be a good punching bag, so he would try and beat me up a lot. But I'm faster than him, so I could usually run away. My uncle, Vernon, tried to stop my letter from coming to me, but Hagrid found us and delivered it by hand." Harry grinned as if he had a secret between himself and Hagrid. Not that I care.

"So you're eleven." I said, more of a statement than a question. He nodded "Any siblings?"

"No, just me." New Profile: Harry Potter, age 11, only child, worst fear – fear itself. Damn these guys are difficult. I hope they all won't be like this, I want to scare some people already! Well, there are lots of things to be afraid of that aren't your greatest fear, like, I don't like flying, but that's not my greatest fear (Midnight Smith, age 11, various half-siblings which may or may not be alive, worst fear – unknown).

"What about you?" Harry asked.

"Not much to tell" I lied "My dad died when I was five and I lived in the orphanage ever since."  
"What about your mum?"

"She works overseas. They didn't have a permanent relationship before he died." I said shortly, not entirely a lie – Nemesis does live in America with the other Greek gods, so she is technically overseas.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did he die?" Harry said.

"Murder. Someone broke into our house and killed him." I said shortly, and I could almost sense my hair bristling, changing colour to a fiery red. My eyes too.

"How did your parents die?" I asked hotly.

"Murder. Someone broke into our house and killed them." Harry said, imitating me. _Ding_-opportunity.

"Do you intent to do anything about it?" I asked.

"Not much I can do. They're dead." He said quietly.

"The man – or woman – who did it. What do you intend to do with them?"

"He was a famous evil wizard. A lot of people think he's dead now. Hagrid thinks he's biding his time, hiding somewhere, but a lot of other people think he's dead. He hasn't been seen in 10 years, since he killed my parents." Opportunity partially erased.

"Why did he spare you?" I asked.

"He didn't mean to." Harry said quietly "Hagrid says he tried to kill me, but something went wrong and it killed him instead. I got my scar." Harry brushed his fringe out of the way of his forehead to reveal a lightning shaped scar.

"Why did he spare you?" Harry asked, again imitating me. That's getting annoying.

"He didn't see me. Just stabbed my dad 13 times, slit his throat then left." Harry paled slightly and looked away.

"How old were you?" He asked.

"5." I replied "I was hidden behind the sofa, watching. You?"

"1, 1 and a half. Too young to remember it." He said. "Sorry for your loss."

"You too." That's it, end of conversation. Talk of my father's death has put me in too much of a downer. I'm sure scaring someone will help. Just have to wait until I get my wand, and get to school, then I can learn a whole bunch of new profiles and set some plans in action.

* * *

"Are you sure it's wise, Dumbledore?" Snape asked, standing in Dumbledore's office as the headmaster paced the room silently. "Allowing a girl with the same background as the Dark Lord's into Hogwarts?"

"I must monitor her, Severus" Dumbledore murmured "She has a very similar past to that of Tom Riddle's – growing up without parental guidance in an orphanage, tormenting other children and staff, the lack of friends or even companions. We must make sure another Voldemort does not arise, especially with the original still out there somewhere. With the right inclination, she could avoid the same fate."

"And Potter?"

"Harry Potter will be safe at Hogwarts. I'll make sure of it."


	2. Diagon Alley

The place called Diagon Alley was _huge_. Almost instantly I heard chattering, murmurs, accusations, yelling, laughing, cheering, 'ooh'-ing and 'aww'-ing. A hundred new profiles began trying to sort themselves in my head. _Posture indicates…speech patter…name?...siblings?...judging by looks I'd say…age 50's-60's, maybe 54?... fears… _I felt my hair streak to dark blue immediately as Hagrid dragged us through the crowd. My head was darting about, trying to pick up names, ages, conversations, observing as many people as possible. Mother would have a field day out here.

"You're doing it again!" Harry exclaimed "Your hair keeps changing colour."

"I'm a Metamorphmagus." I muttered absent mindedly. There's too much going on around me to pay attention to anything Harry has to say right now. I've made his profile – which reminds me, I have to add it to my book of profiles. It's in my suitcase I think.

"'Ere we are. Midnight, we'll leave you 'ere. Don't worry, we'll be back soon. Jus' don't go no-where. Don't want you getting' lost." I turned to Hagrid, slightly aggravated, streaks of my hair beginning to turn red. He led Harry off, and my eyes narrowed to a glare in the back of his head before I looked to where I had been left. It was a small, quaint shop. _Ollivanders_. Hmm. This must be where I get my wand. I sighed and walked inside. There was a little '_ding_'. I looked up to see the door had triggered a little bell. An old man, behind a long wooden counter, turned his head and looked at me, smiling slightly. Shelves upon shelves of bookcase were behind him with what looked like shoeboxes on them. There were small ladders scattered about as well.

"Hello there." He smiled "How can I help? First year at Hogwarts? Need a wand? Excellent, come here and I'll measure you."

"What does measuring me have to do with getting a wand?" I asked, but stepped forwards anyway. He brought out a measuring tape and began explaining it to me.

"We have to find a wand that is suitable for you to wield, and naturally there are thousands of wands each demanding a different owner. So, we must narrow down the search or we'd be here all day, now wouldn't we?" I said nothing. New Profile: Mr. Ollivander, age unknown, worst fear… seems to be evil. Evil magic? Evil people? Or just evil in general? Not sure yet. I'll put 'evil' and narrow it down later. He finished measuring me and then scurried off, muttering to himself, before he climbed a small ladder on a bookcase and returned with three boxes, stacked up on top of each other, in his hands. He put them on the counter, and I watched curiously as he opened the lid, delicately picking up a small stick from inside. He handed it to me, and I reached over, taking it.

"10 inches, juniper, dragon heartstring core." He watched me take it, smiling slightly. "Go ahead, give it a wave." He said. I shrugged and flicked it, making a teapot on the corner of the room explode.

"Maybe not" He frowned, and took it from me, putting it back in the box. He took the second one and handed it to me. Before he could even explain what it was the glass in the door shattered. He snatched it away and opened the last box.

"12 inches, Manticore hair, Black Limba wood." He handed it to me, and I took it gently. It began to glow, and I grinned as warmth, and yet somehow darkness spread across the feeling in my arm.

"I like this one." I smiled.

"Yes" Mr. Ollivander murmured "I think that's the wand for you." He took it from me and put it back in the box before handing the box to me. I handed over the wizarding money mother had dropped off with my supplies and headed out. As I opened the door, I heard Mr. Ollivander talking behind me.

"Be careful with it, it can do great, but terrible things in the hands of those with darkness in their hearts." I turned to him and smiled.

"I'll keep it in mind." I said pleasantly before turned back and leaving the shop. I carried the box under my arm, making sure it was supported constantly – I don't want to drop it. I spotted Hagrid and Harry easily and made my way over to them. They were in a robes shop, and Hagrid frowned when he saw me.

"I thought I told ya not to go anywhere."

"You weren't that difficult to spot." I replied immediately. Harry jumped down from the stool he was stood on and grinned.

"You should've seen Gringotts - it's amazing!"

"Amazing wouldn't quite be the word I'd use" Hagrid muttered.

"I'd rather not." I said "How long before we leave?"

"Well, 'Arry's got to get his wand yet. We've already got the school books. Should be about ano'er half hour." Half an hour… Βοήθεια's been away from me for a while; mother told me to keep her close, but I left her at the Leaky Cauldron – some kind of hotel we'd be staying at until Hogwarts in a few days. I was already beginning to miss her.

"Done?" Hagrid said "Good. Le's go." Harry followed Hagrid out of the shop excitedly, and I sighed, rolling my eyes before walking after them. On the way back to Ollivanders, I spotted a pet shop.

"Hagrid" I said, poking his gigantic arm "I'm going to have a look in there. I won't go anywhere, I promise."

"All right 'en, jus' don't wander off."

"I won't." I said, already moving away from them to the pet shop. I walked inside at the smell of animal hit me, but it wasn't a bad smell. I wonder if there's more to keeping owls than meets the eye. Maybe she needs vitamins or something other than what she can catch at night. I approached the counter. Not many people were in here. In fact, I'm the only person in here who's not working here. The lady who was working here was stood behind the counter, brushing a cat's fur.

"Hello there." She smiled, putting the cat back in its cage. "How can I help?"

"I've just got an owl, and I'm wondering if there's anything I should know about looking after it." I said immediately. The lady smiled.

"Well, they like to sleep during the day, they need a cage for transportation, and they usually have some seed in case they don't catch anything – don't want them going hungry, do we? They need lots of exercise, which they'll probably get through delivering post – oh and they of course need fresh water every day. What kind of information did you have in mind?"

"The kind you just said really." I said strongly "Can I have some owl seed please? If that's what it's called."

"Small, medium or large?"

"Um, medium please." I said, putting my hands in my pockets to find some more money. The lady disappeared and repapered a few moments later with a medium bag of seed. The owls for sale around me began squawking, but we both ignored them as I paid for the seed. Then Hagrid came in, without Harry.

"Good, you're still 'ere." He said, before he picked up a cage with a small pure white snowy owl in it.

"Hedwig" He muttered, reading the name tag.

"She's a darling snowy owl." The lady said loudly. I moved away slightly.

"It's Arry's birthday, you see, 'n' he's never 'ad a proper birfday present, so I fought I'd get 'im a pet to keep 'im company." Hagrid explained to me putting the cage on the counter "Best have some seed as well." Hagrid said to the lady, and she nodded, scurrying away and returning with the same sized seed bag as mine. Hagrid paid for it quickly.

"C'mon 'en, Midnight, le's go get 'Arry."


	3. Draco Malfoy

Harry stayed behind, chatting with Hagrid as I rolled my eyes and walked away, striding as I pushed my trolley to platform 9. Platform 9 ¼, 9 ½, 9 ¾. This should be it. No train. Not even a proper station number. Platform 10 is just there, I can't have gone too far. Βοήθεια swooped down next to the wall between platforms 9 and 10. She chirped and I raised an eyebrow.

"The wall? Really? Birdie I think you've lost your marbles." She squeaked angrily at me and took off, flying directly _through_ the wall.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." I muttered, then sighed frustrated. "Fine, I'm coming." I lined up my trolley to face the wall. If this doesn't work I'm going to look like such an idiot. I took off, one foot after another, running towards the wall. I didn't dare slow down, even as the front of the trolley seemed like it was going to collide with the wall – but it didn't. I walked straight through. Noise instantly hit my ears, nearly deafening me for a second. I carried on walked to the magnificent majestic train that was parked at the platform, already filled with children.

"Whoa." I muttered, trying to control my hair colour so it didn't change. The last thing I need right now is people staring at me. I picked up my suitcase and my bags as Βοήθεια flew back to me, landing on my shoulder with a satisfied chirp, as if to say 'I told you so'. I pushed the trolley away and picked up my bags, lifting them up onto the train. I walked down the carriage until I spotted an empty compartment. Βοήθεια flew in, as I lifted my bags onto the rack above the seats, keeping my rucksack and pen handy. The equipment list said you used quills instead of pens, but I'm not sure how I'll manage to write on a moving train with quills and ink pots, not to mention I've never tried writing with a quill before in my entire life. I marked down the three new profiles I had acquired over the past few days: Harry Potter, Rubeus Hagrid, and Mr. Olivander. When I had finished, I closed the book and put it back in my bag, just as there was a knock on my compartment door. I looked up to see a boy with a pale face and white blonde hair stood there. He opened the door.

"Are you a pure-blood?" He asked.

"Purer than you'd think." I replied, smiling slightly in the corners of my mouth. I was of course, referring to my mother. Hagrid had mentioned about blood-status at the wizarding school, and although technically my mother has no blood status, I think it's safe to say she's pretty pure. And I don't know if my dad was or not, so it seems safer to say 'yes I am a pureblood' than, 'I don't know because my dad's dead and my mother is a goddess'. The boy smiled and walked inside.

"Seat taken?" He asked.

"No." I replied, putting my rucksack between my legs. Βοήθεια flew over to me and sat back on my shoulder. The boy sat across from me and held out his hand.

"I'm Malfoy." He said, a slight snigger in his voice "Draco Malfoy." I took his hand and shook it.

"Midnight Smith."

"I can't stand the thought of going to Hogwarts" Draco said instantly as he let go of my hand, his nose turned up as if he'd smelt something foul "Father wanted me to go to a proper boarding school, but Mother said she'd miss me too much. Of course, at least Hogwarts has Slytherin. It's by far the best house, don't you think?"

"I don't know much about them." I said, stroking Βοήθεια's chest.

"But you said you were a pure-blood." Draco said, narrowing his eyes "You weren't lying were you?"  
"No." I said, turning my head to him. "My mother works overseas, and my father died when I was young, so I've been raised in a muggle orphanage. I'm still not up to speed with everything that goes on."

"Oh." Draco said, relaxing a little "Harsh. I don't think I could stand it surrounded by filthy muggles."

"Yup, they're a pain." I agreed.

"Well, you'll learn everything quickly enough. There are four houses, and Slytherin is by far the best. Only wizards and witches of the purest blood and most talent get into _that_ house. Of course, all of _my_ family has been in it. Which houses were your parents in?"

"I think my mother attended a foreign boarding school. She's an American witch you see." I said, making it up on the spot as Βοήθεια nipped my ear. "And I was too young to talk to my father about which schools he went to. I just know he was a wizard. I saw him doing magic a lot, but it just didn't seem like the kind of thing you'd talk about, you know?"

"Oh definitely." Draco nodded "Well, I'm definitely going to be in Slytherin. I think I'd just die of embarrassment if I was put in Hufflepuff."

"Yeah, I can't imagine how anyone can stand it." I scoffed. "Do you have any siblings at Hogwarts, then?"

"No, it's just me. Mother and Father didn't want any more kids, said I was just perfect enough." New Profile: Draco Malfoy, only child, age 11, worst fear – power over him. "What's that?" He asked, pointing to the pen that was still in my hand.

"This? Oh, it's just a pen. Muggle version of a quill." I said shortly, putting it back in my bag.

"Urgh, why must muggle's copy everything we do?" He scoffed in disgust.

"Because we're more amazing than them?" I suggested. Draco laughed slightly, but it was more of an amused snort.

"Good answer. You're right of course, we are superior by far." Draco said. He seems snotty, but snotty people can be used to your advantage, and I'm not all that different, so I guess I can't complain. He waved to someone outside the compartment. Two larger boys walked in and sat down.

"Boys, this is Midnight Smith." Draco said, his voice seemingly holding an authority over them "Pure-blood. Midnight, this is Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Crabbe and Goyle for short. Pure-bloods."

"Naturally" I said, looking them up and down. "Will you be in Slytherin too?"

"Yeah" They both grunted "Slytherin's the best." Although they were muttering and the words seemed to roll into one long drone, they were being sincere.

"So I've heard." I agreed. Βοήθεια chirped as the train jolted, before a loud whistle sounded and it began to move.

"About time." Draco declared "I thought this old rust bucket would never get going."

"I've never been on a train before." I smiled slightly, looking out of the window at the platform that was slowly disappearing.

"They're outdated." Draco scoffed "For wizards anyway. Wouldn't the muggles have put you on a train before?"

"No, I wasn't allowed out of the orphanage. Caused too much trouble for them." I grinned wickedly and Draco laughed.

"Now _that's_ a Slytherin attitude – causing trouble for muggles. What did you do?"

"Um, I've made the other orphans attack each other, I've creeped out the staff, oh – when we went to the beach I scared one of the kids in a cave so bad she wouldn't come out afterwards. The tide was coming in by the time they dragged her out. Um, I've sabotaged the bus… actually I've sabotaged three busses. What else did I do before they got fed up of me?" I tilted my head thinking.

"A trouble-maker then?" Draco grinned "Let's hope you're in Slytherin, then you can cause trouble for Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor's another house?"

"Yup, the worst. It's full of snot-nosed goody-goodies. They're always trying to show Slytherin up. I guess it just proves we're better, after all, _we've_ won the house cup six years in a row."

"You're not in Slytherin yet." I pointed out, grinning.

"I will be though." Draco stuck his nose up in the air and sniffed. Βοήθεια flew from my shoulder onto my lap and pecked my finger.

"Ow" I exclaimed, moving away "Βοήθεια, I swear if you do that again I will throw you out of the window." She didn't seem to like this threat and flew up onto my suitcase, putting her head in her wing, assumedly to go to sleep.

"What king of name is Vo- whatever?" Draco asked.

"Voí̱theia." I said, pronouncing it for him "It's Greek. She came with it."

"Well, what's wrong with her?" Draco asked, looking up to where she was resting.

"Not sure. Maybe she's just being awkward because she hasn't been on a train before. She could be tired, or hungry, but she caught a mouse last night, so she could just be being greedy." I shrugged. "She's had a drink already before we left, so she's not thirsty. I think she's just awkward." Draco smiled slightly,

"Can't be as bad as the Weasley's owl. I heard it crash landed into the table trying to deliver a letter and spilled all the food over a second year." I sniggered.

"Βοήθεια's good at delivering stuff and she's good for company – I hate socialising with the muggles, you know?"

"I feel so sorry for you." Draco said, looking sincere. Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

"My mum had to go into a muggle town the other day. Worst day of her life, she said." Carbbe muttered. We all nodded sympathetically.

After a while, when the sun got higher in the sky, and then began to sink back down, I grew bored of listening to how bad muggles were, and decided to get changed into my Hogwarts robes. Who cares if it's early right? I picked them out of my rucksack.

"I'm gonna get changed." I said, squeezing past Crabbe and Goyle's fat legs.

"All right. We'll have a snoop around the train. Apparently Harry Potter's on board this year."

"Yeah, he is." I nodded "I went to Diagon Alley with him."

"You've met Harry Potter?!" Crabbe exclaimed, quite quickly for Crabbe. I nodded.

"Why, is that a big deal?"

"Harry Potter's famous for being the 'boy who lived'. He's the only one who's ever survive a killing curse." Draco said, standing "Hopefully he'll be in Slytherin too. My father's very interested in him.

"Not sure how that's physically possible, but alright. I'm still going to get changed though. I'll meet you guys back here after you've had your fan-girling session over Harry." I grinned and Draco moved past me, punching my arm slightly – it didn't hurt, it was just playful. I grinned mockingly and stuck my tongue out at him before moving away to the nearest toilet cubicle to get changed. My robes had that 'new clothes' smell, and fitted comfortably, not too tight, not too loose. I had four different ties to choose from, but I didn't put one on – I don't know which house I'm in yet. I assume that's what they represent, houses. Draco said green and white or green and silver was Slytherin, so I'm guessing that's the one in my hand right now. I wouldn't mind wearing this tie for the rest of the year.

I brushed my hair with my fingers, deciding deep red curls could go to pure black ringlets. I don't know why, but I'm not that fond of straight hair, maybe it's the way curls bounce around my shoulders and make my head feel protected, even though I know full well if something hits me in the head, my hair will do nothing about it.

I left the toilet cubicle and went back to the compartment, sitting down and putting my ordinary clothes back in the bag. A few minutes later Draco, Crabbe and Goyle returned, but instead of coming in, they stopped outside. I looked up at them.

"Guys, what are you doing out there? You look like idiots. Come on." They didn't. "What is the door stuck or something?" I walked over and opened it.

"This is our compartment?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know if you own it, but we've been sat in here all morning and so far this afternoon so get your butts back inside." I grinned and sat down. After a moment, Draco followed me in.

"Midnight?"

"Yes?"

"Oh so it _is_ you."

"Who else would I be?" I asked.

"How did you get your hair to change so fast? I didn't recognise you."

"My hair? Oh, I'm a metamorphmagus."

"Really?" Draco asked. I changed my hair colour to a golden blonde, watching him grin before returning it to black.

"That's amazing!" He exclaimed "Metamorphmagi are really rare. You'll pass in transfiguration for sure. Not that transfiguration's worth much, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts will be better, but that's still really cool."

"Yup" I replied, smiling "I know."


	4. The Sorting

The train pulled into the station with an eerie squeal before the smoke and steam billowed out of its engine. We stood, Βοήθεια flying onto my shoulder with a slight chirp. She's behaving better now, luckily.

"What about the bags?" I asked, looking back in the compartment. My rucksack was now residing inside my suitcase – kind of defeating the point of having it with me, but anyway.

"They get them for you. C'mon." Draco said, already walking off. I rolled my eyes, sighing, and brushed my fingers through the black ringlets of my hair before following them.

I stepped down from the train steps, looking around at the swarm of black cloaked students who were now pushing and shoving their way through the crowd.

"Firs' years!Firs' years o'er 'ere!" I recognised the voice that was calling, and spotted the owner immediately against the swarm of small heads. I made my way over to Hagrid, Draco and his 'boys' behind me.

"'Ello 'er Midnight." Hagrid grunted.

"Hello." I replied, but I knew he wasn't listening to me. He carried on yelling until the station seemed to die down, and only the smallest of us – first years – were left.

"I'm Hagrid. Grounds and game keeper at Hogwarts. Follow me." He turned and began to walk away. Draco looked at me, and I raised an eyebrow before following. Βοήθεια chirped and took flight, soaring past Hagrid's head as we walked. We were almost like a troop, led by the man who must surely be a giant, or at least half giant, marching through the dark in our black robes on a seemingly endless path. I heard chatting behind me from the masses, and Draco was muttering to Crabbe and Goyle about how he would never have had to walk anywhere at home and how Hogwarts was all a big joke already, when we reached the lake edge. There were boats lining it, and Hagrid turned to us, holding up his lantern, illuminating his aged face covered in bushy beard.

"Now 'er will be no shovin' or pushin'. Four per boat. 'Op in, 'n' don't fall in!" Hagrid called out, his voice echoing into the sky. Draco muttered about how stupid and trivial it was, and how he'd be having words with his father about it. I rolled my eyes and got in the boat closest.

"Are you coming or what?" I asked impatiently. After a moment's hesitation, Draco nodded and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to get in first. I rolled my eyes as he got in, and looked around as other first years boarded their boats. I spotted Harry and a ginger boy getting into one of the other boats, and watched them for a second or so before our own boat seemed to slip forwards. The other boats did the same, some of them nearly capsizing from the force of it, but no one fell in. I noticed how one girl began to cower away from the water, sticking to the middle. It would be funny if I could turn the boat over, but I think someone would notice if I jumped out of my own boat and capsized theirs.

The caste towered above the lake like it was from a glorious fairy tale. A fairy tale I'd never thought I'd be in. And with all the people around me, not to mention more inside… I am going to have a lot of fun here! Not fun for everyone else, but fun for me. I wonder how quickly it will take them to turn on each other.

As I pondered over this, the boats came to a halt and we moved to the castle gates where we were met by an elderly woman in a stereotypical witch's costume. I tried not to snigger. She surveyed us all with her scanning eyes before introducing herself as Professor McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration and head of Gryffindor house. She turned and lead us all inside to a set of big wooden double doors. Then she faced us all again.

"Inside these doors is the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your houses. There are four houses, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be like your family. If you follow the rules, you will receive points for your house. Break any rules, and you will loose points." She paused for a moment, and then turned back to the doors, opening them dramatically. We followed her inside, past long tables filled with students, the ceiling seemingly missing, a night sky above filled with stars. Quite spectacular. At the front was another table, lined with staff, and in front of it, a stool with a brown hat. Professor McGonagall walked up to it, and stood by it, unrolling a scroll of parchment. She began to call out names, and students walked up to the front, sat on the stool with the hat on their heads, and the hat would yell out a name. I kept zoning in and out of the names and the response, only catching a few.

"Bones, Susan."

"Hufflepuff!"

"Bullstrode, Millicent."

"Slytherin!"

"Crabbe, Vincent."

"Slytherin!"

"Goyle, Gregory."

"Slytherin!"

"Granger, Hermione."

"Gryffindor!"

"Longbottom, Neville."

"Gryffindor!"

"Malfoy, Draco."

"Slytherin!" So Draco did get into Slytherin after all.

"Potter, Harry." There was murmuring as Harry went up, and the hat was silent for a while, before finally yelling out,

"Gryffindor!" The Gryffindor table cheered, and clapped excitedly. More names were called, and then it got to me.

"Smith, Midnight." McGonagall said clearly. I stepped up to the hat, sitting quietly. Then the hat began to talk to me.

"What a striking resemblance." it began "Both the brains and the cunning of your father will surely serve you well, but there's a slyness, oh yes, though the lack of loyalty to those other than your parents makes me wonder. I think your bravery is outweighed this time, it has to be… Slytherin!" I stood as the Slytherin table clapped enthusiastically, and I moved away, sitting next to Draco, who grinned at me smugly. I saw Harry look over in my direction, and I smiled at him briefly, raising an eyebrow, before turning back to the front and watching as the last few people were sorted.

"Told you we'd get in Slytherin." Draco said, a snigger in his voice. "It's by far the best house."

"Only now that I'm in it." I said back to him, and he laughed under his breath, before a feast erupted onto the table, and we tucked into the meal. My father must have been in Slytherin for the hat to talk about him as cunning. That's why the Slytherin's went to Slytherin, right, because they were sly and cunning. Well, that was me all right. I guess I haven't really thought about it before but, I guess I don't really have any loyalties. I'm loyal to Nemesis, as she understands me, and drives my passion to cause mayhem. And dad... well, dad's dead isn't he. How can I be loyal to someone who's dead. But, I will find his killer. And they'll be sorry they didn't kill me right along with him.


	5. Can't Sleep

I twirled my wand in my fingers, and then stood. It was late evening, and my new dorm mates (Pansy Parkinson, age 11, worst fear – being ignored. Millicent Bullstrode, age 11, worst fear – being overpowered. Tracy Davis, age 11, worst fear – powerful people or maybe a single powerful person. And Daphene Greengrass, age 11, worst fear – water. She may have been the girl I saw in the boats while we were crossing the lake) are all fast asleep. Snobs, the lot of them, but snobs are the easiest people to manipulate, so I guess I can live with it. I might even have fun.

I walked out of the dorm room in my pyjamas, bag slung over my shoulder, going quickly and quietly down the stairs. The common room was empty, save for a few spiders in cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. The fire was going out, but I didn't really mind. Green light cast its way across the room, flickering quietly. I sat on one of the arm chairs and curled my feet up on it, watching the dying embers as they threatened to leap out onto the carpet. Sort of dangerous, but cool I guess. I've always liked fire. For something that can bring so much warmth, it can destroy in an instant. So unpredictable, indiscriminatory, like life.

As I sat, watching the fire, I decided that I might as well start an update to my mum. After all, she asked how it was going, so I'd better reply before she gets antsy. I took out my quill and parchment and began to write.

_Dear mum,_

_Things are going well so far I think. I'm in Slytherin house and as of yet no one suspects anything. I know it's not even the first day in yet, but I have the feeling there are a lot of opportunities available to me. Thank you for sending me here. I'll keep you updated._

_Love, Midnight._

Rubbish, but anyway. I folded it and put it in an envelope, whistling for Βοήθεια to come and collect it. She chirped at me once as I tied the letter to her ankle, and opened the window. She soared off into the night as I felt the low breeze send shivers across my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck tingling. I closed the window and heated myself up by the fire. I was wide awake, not really knowing what to do. I've never used a wand before, save for the time I spent in Ollivander's shop. I guess I could try a few spells out. Or try and read one of the books. But they're all the way up in the dorm room, can I really be bothered to get out of this comfortable chair? No, I don't think so. It's been ages since I was left alone in such a big room, with so much interesting stuff in it. Having ADHD, I like the chaotic masses scattered around, and the unequal layout of the room. The darkness of the lake above and around the common room makes the walls seem like they're shimmering. It's beautiful, green and black, shadows against the light of the fire, the comfortable green-tinged leather of the chairs. Tapestries line the walls, depicting what I can only presume are famous Slytherin wizards and witches from long lines of pure-blood families. I can't really imagine many things being more spectacular, save for Olympus of course. I wonder if there are other demi-gods here. Harry isn't one, that's for sure, but the Gods have ruled in almost every part of the world, there have to be _some_ others in a school like this, maybe older than me, maybe the same age. No one I've met as of yet has anything demi-god-ish about them, no training in combat, no dyslexia or ADHD, no inherited powers. Even Athena's children have inherited her intelligence and weaving skills, not to mention her strategic battle attitude. I myself have inherited many gifts from mother. I wonder if any of these children belong to Hecate, the goddess of magic. Wouldn't that be something? I just hope there aren't children of Tyche here, Gods I hate them. They'd ruin everything, with their good fortune blessings and constant niceness. Honestly, I don't know how they do it, being nice _all _the time. Yeah, I could cope with a few times a day if I wanted, but all the time? No way. Although, I must admit, I've always wanted to wind up a child of Tyche, rub it in her face. I'm sure mother would approve as well. I've always wanted to make her proud. Maybe I'll get that chance.

"What are you doing down here?" I whipped my head around to the voice and saw Draco standing at the foot of the boy's dorm stairs.

"Couldn't sleep." I replied. He walked over to me. Despite it being in the middle of the night, he was wearing his Hogwarts cloak over his pyjamas, had shoes and socks on, and his hair seemed to have been brushed at least three times, unlike me who had just walked down barefoot with my hair looking like I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

As he sat and smirked I suddenly became aware of my appearance, how untidy I was with my outdated, fading pyjamas. The bags under my eyes must be atrocious. I bristled. _Why should I care?_ _It's just Draco_.

"What are you doing down here?" I asked him.

"Is it any of your business?" He smirked.

"Guess not." I shrugged. I turned my head back to the fire and allowed my hair to mirror it, colour flicking like the flames.

"If you must know," Draco began slowly "I'm not used to sleeping in a dorm with other people. I've always had my own room."

"So you can't sleep either?"

"It sounds stupid when you say it like that."

"So? It's not as if the whole school is watching." Draco was silent. I pulled out my wand and twirled it more in my fingers.

"What kind of wand did you get?" Draco asked.

"12 inches, Manticore hair core, Black Limba wood. You?"

"10 inches, Unicorn hair core, Hawthorn wood."

"Mmm." There didn't seem to be much to say. It was almost like there was an awkwardness between us. I don't like it. I stood up and stretched my arms.

"I'm going to bed." I sighed, "Goodnight." He grunted in response, and I rolled my eyes before walking back across the common room and up the girls dorm staircase. When I got to the room, I was surprised to see Pansy Parkinson sat up in bed.

"Off on a midnight walk?" She sneered, her arms folded across her chest.

"Sort of suits me, right?" I smirked. She scowled.

"What were you doing?" She asked, watching me as I climbed back into bed.

"Is it any of your concern?" She blinked, and then scowled again.

"I'm telling Professor Snape."

"I should care because?" I lay back down, putting my wand under my pillow, and rolled on my side so I wasn't facing her. I could hear her muttering angrily to herself, but I did my best to ignore her.

I could feel the darkness creeping in the edge of my vision before I closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"_She should be of age soon, my lord."_

_ "I wish to see her."_

_ "Yes my lord. It is only a matter of time before she learns of her heritage, and when she discovers who ended her father-" There was an anger filled hiss._

_ "He must die."_

_ "She swore a vengeance against her father's killer. I wonder if she will act on it."_

_ "She will. Her mother will ensure it. They are our greatest weapon. It is only a matter of time before they realise it_."

"_Yes my lord_."


	6. Transfiguration

I sat down at one of the desks towards the back of the class for my first lesson of transfiguration and got my textbook out of my bag. You can observe a lot more from the back of the classroom, after all, if you're at the front you have no idea of what's happening behind you. It seems stupid really. But, nevertheless, a girl with bushy brown hair strode in a few moments before me and sat at the front desk, edging as close as she could, like it was a status symbol, sitting up straight and craning her neck as high as it would go, as if she was trying to make herself look more impressive.

The professor came in moments later, and I sat up straight as other students followed her. It didn't seem to startle her that we were in the room, even though I didn't ask permission. I don't know if the other girl did or not. Maybe. The professor strode up to the front of the class as everyone took their seats. Thankfully, no one sat next to me, although I saw Draco shoot me a smirk as he sat next to one of his body guards towards the middle of the classroom. It seemed divided, Slytherin's on the left, Gryffindor's on the right. Professor McGonagall turned and looked at us all.

"There will be no talking" She began "Unless you are spoken to, or have a question. If you do have a question, I expect you to raise your hand and wait until I answer you. Transfiguration is a very serious subject, and I will not tolerate misbehaving students in my classroom." She scanned us all, looking around the room. There were some empty desks towards the front of the classroom, next to the bushy haired girl. Not everyone must be here yet. Nevertheless, McGonagall explained what transfiguration was, how we could use it, and set us to work answering some questions from our textbooks. It was also at that moment I saw something so extraordinary I couldn't help but gasp along with the rest of the students. Professor McGonagall was standing there one minute, at the front of the classroom, and the next, she was a beautiful silver tabby cat that flicked its tail edgily before pouncing up onto the desk and sitting, watching us all with piercing eyes. It meowed once, and our heads seemed to snap back before diving towards the work, scribbling away furiously. That was when Harry and another boy with bright ginger hair ran in.

"Boy, could you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if she knew we were late." The ginger boy said cockily. The tabby stiffened before leaping up, and halfway through the leap, transfigured back into Professor McGonagall who used the forward momentum to stride up to the two boys.

"Whoa! That was bloody wicked!" The ginger boy grinned.

"Thank you, Mister Weasley." She said sternly "Maybe if I turned you into a pocket watch you might be on time for my lesson."

"We got lost." Harry said.

"Perhaps a map then." She said "Find some seats and answer questions 1 to 10 in the textbook." The boy and Harry nodded, quickly moving to the front next to the bushy haired girl. They seemed to know her.

After a while, Professor McGonagall began to talk again and taught us the incantation and wand movement for small transfiguration spells. Excitement began to bubble in me as we took out our wands. A pin was placed in front of us before she told us to try and transfigure it into a match box. Most of the class scoffed, but I couldn't help but be excited. I've been a Metamorphmagus since I was first born, but I've never tried changing something else. I whipped my wand and spoke the incantation, which became a merged mess with the rest of the voices in the classroom, but nothing happened. I tried again, and still nothing. My excitement began to dwindle. Why couldn't I do it? I'm the daughter of Nemesis for Gods sake! I'm a natural born transfigure-er, so why is this so difficult? I tried again, and again, and again, before finally, the tip of the pin changed colour slightly. I grinned despite myself and tried again, and again. Slowly, parts of the pin began to change. I stood back slightly and spoke the incantation especially loudly, making sure not to flourish my wand too much, and the pin gave a little jolt before it became square, and then cuboid, metal turning to wood – or whatever matchboxes are made of – and it was a matchbox. A broad grin swept across my face.

"Professor!" I called "I've done it!" She strode over to me and I held it out to her. The corners still gleamed silver slightly, and were still rough to the touch, but it was a matchbox nonetheless.

"Excellent. 10 points to Slytherin." I thought I sensed something hostile in her voice, as if she didn't want to give me points, but she strode back and raised her voice "Miss Smith is the first to successfully transfigure her pin. Well done." Some members of the class turned back to look at me as I sat down from where I had been stood, and the bushy haired girl glared at me. I glared back, smirking slightly before she turned around. This is going to be a very good year indeed.

* * *

_The man strode away from the scene, closing the front door to the house behind him, and sliding his wand up his sleeve out of view of the muggles. It was dark out, and there was a slight chill in the air. Not as cold as the room he had just come from – the stench of death hung there like a thick fog refusing to dissipate. The bodies were traitors – they were so rare. It wasn't often someone betrayed someone of his stature, but it was impossible for them to _survive_ betraying him. They hadn't even put up a fight, sat in their chairs holding each other's hands as he moved behind them. It was inevitable that they had heard him come in, yet still they chose not to fight. Pacifists to the end. _

_ The hood to his cloak rested over his pale face as he passed underneath a street light before he turned a corner and came into view of a small café. The lights were on inside, shining through the large glass windows, illuminating a set of four small metal tables each equipped with three metal chairs. The man wondered if there was anyone worth killing inside – after all, statements had to be made every once in a while – before he noticed there was someone outside. The figure, whom the man could swear hadn't been there before, had a small pile of brown fragments on the table, and seemed to be breaking them one by one before putting them into a wicker basket. The figure blended into the shadows almost as well as he did himself, though if the figure knew he was there, they weren't showing any signs of it. There were no signs of life from inside the café either. The man stayed close to the shadows before wondering why he was doing so, after all, he could kill them if he wanted to. He had been restricted for far too long; it was time he was let loose. _


	7. DADA

I walked down the corridor by myself towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, everyone else already having gone ahead from the previous lesson. It had been raining all morning, and there was a musty smell in the air. I haven't gotten into any mischief yet, save for annoying my dorm mates. But as I neared the classroom, I heard several voices getting louder. I rounded the corner slowly and observed the scene. Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, was arguing with Harry and his red-headed friend, a few Gryffindor and Slytherin students on either side, including the bushy haired girl that had glared at me in Transfiguration a few days before. Tracy Davis was one of the girls on the Slytherin side.

"What's going on?" I whispered to her.

"Weasley said something stupid so Draco's teaching him his place." Tracy whispered back. Weasley… that must be the red-head. I watched curiously, my eyes flickering from one side to the other as the boys hurled insults at each other before Malfoy said something I didn't quite catch. It sounded like he insulted Weasley's mother, but whatever it was made the red-head lunge forwards before Harry grabbed him back. Malfoy smirked as the red-head pushed Harry off, glaring at the Slytherins.

The door was opened and Professor Quirrell stood there, his purple turban straight and neat and strikingly bright.

"N-now s-s-s-stop that. C-come inside t-t-this i-instant." He said in what would have been a strict tone had it not been for the stutter. The red-head and Harry looked to Quirrell as Draco smirked behind their backs.

We filed into the classroom, and again, I sat as far towards the back as possible. Harry, the red-head and the bushy haired girl sat on the front row, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle about two rows back on the other side. I'm going to have to learn their names, I can't just keep calling them 'red-head and bushy hair'. Maybe I'll talk to them after the lesson.

I focused less on the lesson and more on Professor Quirrell. His speech pattern is strange. I mean, I know some people stutter, but it's almost like he's putting it on. The way his mouth curves when he talks doesn't seem to fit. But why would anyone deliberately fake a stutter? He's not impersonating anyone, or mocking anyone. He's just teaching – or trying to. In fact, I think the stutter actually dipped at one point to where it was non-existent, before I think he realised and it came back with a vengeance. Almost every word was stuttered for several minutes before the word came out.

I thought I'd enjoy defence against the dark arts. I was wrong. Quirrell's handwriting was terrible and tiny, so I struggled to read any of it, much less write it down. I wasn't sat next to anyone to ask what I was supposed to be doing and whenever I put my hand up, Quirrell ignored me. I tried to focus on what he was talking about, but the stutter put me off, and my ADHD kicked in. I began looking at all the things around the classroom, the decorations hanging from the ceiling and strange creatures in cages and water tanks.

"M-m-miss S-Smith!" I turned my head to Quirrell, who was looking at me with a slightly frustrated look on his face. All eyes in the classroom turned to me. "P-please pay a-attention." I looked at him with a bored expression on my face, but nodded.

"Yes Professor." I looked to my notes to see I'd written nothing at all. I didn't even know what the subject of the lesson was. I was glad when it was over.

Walking out of the classroom, I groaned, stretching my arms.

"Gods, that was boring." I muttered to myself. I hung back in the crowd, towards the door, but slightly to the right. People filed past me until one grabbed my arm. I prepared to kick them, before I realised it was just Mafloy.

"Aren't you coming to the Great Hall for lunch?" He asked me.

"Nah, I think I'm going to go later. I'm still pretty full from breakfast." He nodded and let go of my arm, disappearing back into the crowd with Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy shot me a glare, so I glared back. She stuck her nose up in the air and stalked off, Tracy following her quickly. Harry and his two friends came out last, which I was slightly thankful for.

"Hi Harry." I said in greeting. He smiled slightly, and I swear he looked me up and down for a moment.

"Hi Midnight." He said back. I smiled at him.

"That was boring, right?" Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I couldn't understand a word he was saying."

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa!" The redhead said, stepping between us. "Harry you're talking to a _Slytherin_."

"So? It's just Midnight."

"_So?_ Harry have you lost your mind?!"

"Sorry, I didn't catch your name?" I said, raising an eyebrow. He turned to me.

"Ron Weasley. What's it to you, _Slytherin_?"

"Well it's nice to meet you Ron." _Not_…

"It's ok, Ron." Harry said "She came with me and Hagrid to Diagon Alley. She's ok." Ron glanced to Harry for a second, and then back to me, before returning to Harry's side, sulking slightly. I turned my gaze to the girl.

"I haven't met you either." I smiled again, and she looked me up and down slightly. I held out my hand to shake.

"Hermione Granger." She said, taking my hand and shaking it weakly.

"Nice to meet you Hermione. I'm Midnight, Midnight Smith."

"'Smith' is a bit of an odd name for a pureblood." Ron said. I shrugged.

"I didn't know my dad's name, and 'Smith' is quite common in the muggle world, so that's what I picked."

"You're a muggle-born?!" Ron nearly fainted.

"No, pure-blood. But I've lived with muggle's since I was five, when my dad died, so, I figured a muggle name would bring less attention."

"What about your mum, surely she has a last name?" Ron asked again. Harry elbowed him in the ribs as if to say '_shut up Ron_'.

"My mum works abroad and doesn't see me very often. I have no other living relatives so I live in an orphanage."

"But surely she has a last name?"

"No."

"No?"  
"No." There was an awkward silence, so I broke it. "So, what do you guys think of Hogwarts?"

"It's great!" Harry immediately smiled widely "I've never seen anything like it."

"I can't wait for potions." Hermione said, suddenly standing very straight and proud. "I hear Professor Snape is tough, but the books are just so interesting." I looked to Ron, who was almost sulking.

"What about you Ron?" I asked.

"I'm not talking to a Slytherin." He muttered. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever. I'm going to lunch. Later."

* * *

_ He stepped out of the shadows, slipping his wand back into his hand. He prepared to raise it._

_ "Well it's about time." The figure with the wicker basket said. He paused. How had they known he was there? "Well, are you going to stand there all day or come and sit down?" He realised the voice was feminine. He had lowered his wand arm without remembering doing so. _

_ "Do you know who I am?" He asked dangerously._

_ "Of course I do. I know everyone." She replied "Come, sit." He couldn't help but walk to her and sit on the chair. The metal was cold, and slightly wet from the rain earlier in the daylight hours. The woman was barely half a metre away, sat in her own chair, and yet showed no signs of fear whatsoever. She radiated power, her very presence seeming to send chills down his spine. He didn't know if he liked it or not. In the low light from the café window, he could see the brown fragments she was breaking were actually those muggle fortune cookies. She broke one, unrolled the paper, pressed her thumb against it, and then put it back into the cookie, sealed it, and put it in the basket. _

_ "My rival, Tyche, loves these things." The woman said in an almost bored tone of voice "Personally I think they're quite mundane. But I do love messing with her. Who does she think she is giving out good luck to every Tom, Dick and Harry, huh? It's ridiculous." _

_ "You do not fear me?" He asked, eyes narrowing slightly in anger and disbelief, ignoring her comments. She scoffed._

_ "No. But don't take it personally. I'm never scared of mortals. I do find you very interesting though. You should take that as a compliment."_

_ "Interesting?"_

_ "You take revenge for the most trivial of things. I like that."_

_ "Why should I care what you like?"_

_ "Let's just say, you and I are going to get a lot better acquainted."_


End file.
